Barcelona… It’s complicated.

Tapas for one. That’s just not a thing.
I went to Barcelona for the art and the architecture. For Picasso and Gaudí and Miró and more moderns. And they overwhelmed me all. Other aspects… Not so much.
But an out-of-the-blue message from the gorgeous Valentina this afternoon had me reminiscing about a fantastically unexpected night out, and I found myself happily revisiting my Barcelona photos from July.
And that night out?
Hours of poring over ancient Roman architectural ruins had me pondering my own insignificance. So, what’s a girl to do but walk into the bar across the street that advertises ‘Best Margaritas in Barcelona’?
And they were damn fine. Both of them.
And the barman turned out to be from Guinea and called me ‘My Sistah’ and kept buying me more drinks.
And the DJ turned out to be taking delivery of new decks.
And my feet were itching to dance.
And late that evening Valentina joined us as we made a dash through the rain to a little joint down an alley and a merry group of us shared food and laughter and made memories into the wee hours.
You rocked, after all, Barcelona. Let’s do that again sometime, shall we?

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